Unknown Soldier
by Jitaeri
Summary: Cloud Stife, former Soldier stumbles upon a girl in much need of help. They do not know that their first encounter will cause a chain of events that will exhile Midgar as a villian rises from amidst the ruins. All is not what is seems to be.  Clerith
1. Prologue

P r o l o g u e

Selling flowers was how she made a living. Most people couldn't believe it, but it's true. She's been doing it for eight years and was quite happy with the results. It paid the rent and bought her groceries and so on. Plus, it made her happy, tending to these beautiful flowers. These flowers have done so much for her over the years. It provided her a source of income, a way to pass time, and serves as something that truly brings her happiness. The only thing it didn't do was keep her hidden from Shinra.

Ever since childhood, Shinra has been searching for her and her childhood memories were marred with frequent midnight escapes with her mother. They moved frequently to keep Shinra away from their objective and as she grew older, she knew it has taken a heavy toll on her mother, who at the age of thirty started having gray hairs and wrinkles around her eyes. When she neared the age of sixteen and her mother turned forty-four, she left. She and her mother found a beautiful home on the outskirts of Sector Five, away from the grim and danger of the city. There, her mother looked at peace amongst a garden of flowers that could never have survived in the city. The place made her mother so happy, she just couldn't take the thought of forcing her to leave once Shinra come after them again. It took a great amount of will power, but she packed some belongings and left during the middle of the night, leaving an apologetic letter for her mother before turning her back on the house.

To this day, she wondered if her mother could ever forgive her.

Sadly, life waits for no one, so she brought herself out of her memories and smiled at the blooms growing at her feet. Reaching forward to touch a silky petal with her hand, she felt a chill go down her spine. She's been feeling that a lot lately, an unreasonably cold chill despite the warm weather. It seems that she'll have to move once again. She really didn't want to. This was her favorite place yet. In this empty church, her flowers had no trouble blooming and because the building was abandoned long ago, no one comes by. She thought she was careful this time, making sure to only sell her flowers in far away places and only returning in the cover of night. It has been weeks since her last encounter with Shinra, and she thought her extra precautions would keep her safe. Somehow, they managed to find her like they always do. It made her sad to think that she would have to leave her lovely flowers again, but she had no choice.

Tonight, she will leave. As she brought her head up in search of comfort from the sun, her eyes closed awaiting the warm rays of light to warm her skin, she felt nothing. She opened her eyes to realize that the sun was hidden behind dark, ominous clouds.

It was as if the Planet was warning her.

Her stomach turned and tightened at the sight. She has eluded Shinra many times before, narrowly, but successfully. She owed it all to a combination of her planning and mostly luck.

It seems that luck is not on her side this time around.

She could have left then and there, however she didn't do so. For some reason, she decided to wait until night fall. No matter how much her body wanted to flee right at that moment, she couldn't ignore the tug of her heart. Maybe it was the flowers that pulled at her so, but she knew it wasn't true.

Yes, she will wait until nightfall because she feels the gravity of the Planet holding her back. "A little while longer, just wait a little while longer," came the whispers in the wind. She will wait.

* * *

><p>He didn't know why he stayed so long this time. He's a mercenary, always wandering about looking for new jobs and opportunities. He does a little bit of everything in search of enough money to allow him to go elsewhere. Usually, he only stays for a week, at most a week-and-a-half. Today, however, will mark his his stay to be exactly two-and-a-half weeks. Why is he lingering? He's done nearly all he can do and his pockets were heavy with gil. Maybe it was because he liked the thought of staying.<p>

In Soldier, there never was a day where he could settle down in one spot for very long. Because of missions, he had to travel the world and leave familiar places behind. That was why he wanted to join Soldier in the first place. To get out of the little mountain village that was his hometown. Well, that and one other reason, though he couldn't quite think of that reason.

He's sort of glad though. Being here relieves him of those headaches he got frequently before. How a place like this, all car exhaust and dirty streets soothed his headache, he didn't know but it did. For years, he had painful headaches and migraines. Before he left Soldier, he was told it was only a side-effect from the Mako in his system and it will fade as the years go by. That wasn't entirely true, but then again, Shinra doctors aren't all that reliable. They always seemed more like mad scientists in disguise to him because of how thrilled they look whenever an injured Soldier gets sent to the infirmary.

He's glad he left. Despite how Soldiers were discovered by a doctor experimentally injecting a man ,who was near death, with a dose of Mako, and the need for the doctors to continually conduct experiments on Soldiers to better understand them, he never really grew used to their presence. He healed fast enough, for it was one of the advantages of becoming a Soldier, to avoid going to the infirmary for physical injuries, but his headaches had him coming back time and time again to figure out the cause. That meant many encounters with doctors who were quite perplexed at his condition. Finally, he thought, as a way to not ruin their reputation, they labeled him as to having a defect that was out of their control before becoming a Soldier, which caused "difficulties adjusting to Mako treatments resulting in chronic head pain" despite that they were the ones who found him fit to be made into a first class Soldier in the first place.

Because of this, he willingly left Shinra and started his life as a mercenary soon after.

So, maybe it wasn't the location that rid him of his headache but really his headache finally fading away after all these years. He has no reason to stay, now that he thinks about it.

Tonight, he decided. He will leave tonight.

He glanced wearily at the cloudy sky and figured he should leave before it starts raining. No, he'll wait until nightfall.

He was used to walking in the rain.

* * *

><p>AN

Okay guys, this is a prologue to my first Clerith story :) Reviews are very much welcomed and I do not own Final Fantasy or anything like that. Leave behind your thoughts and questions too. I can't guarantee that I will answer your questions, but it's nice to know them in preparation for the next chapter. I'm sorry for any spelling mistakes/ grammatical errors so if you find one (or ten to hundred of them) be sure to tell me and I'll try to get them fixed as soon as possible. I plan to update this every week or so but do know that reviewing helps me think up ideas faster!


	2. Encounter

Here's the first chapter, a little longer as requested! As always, I do not own Final Fantasy VII.

E n c o u n t e r

"Thank you, sir. I hope you've had a pleasant stay at Haslow's Inn."

He gave a silent nod in reply to the man after handing over three-thousand four-hundred gil to the portly innkeeper. It was an understatement to say that his pockets grew remarkably lighter, but it was his fault for staying so long in the first place so he had no one to blame but himself. He stepped out of the inn just in time to see the fading rays of sunlight that marked the end of day. Good, he thought. It was easier to travel at night. The less human interaction, the better. The only downside would have to be the increase of crime that came along with the setting of the sun. It wasn't that there was any less crime during the day but that the criminals were more daring with the cover of night. Cloud himself had no trouble dealing with the low-lives that plague the city by night. In fact, it proved as more business for him. Charge a few people to kick out some thugs from behind their apartment, escort a couple more people from sector to sector and he would end up with at least ten thousand gil.

The night air was refreshing on his warm skin. The room he rented back at the inn was stuffy and humid even with the window open. Finding a decent place to stay in Midgar is already a challenge and when you do find one, it's never perfect. As long as it has a bed, he could make do with it. After all, in Soldier such creature comforts were rare to come by and would never last long.

Very few people stay out once the sun sets. There is usually an increase in crime as soon as the moon is up. That doesn't mean that there is more crime happening at night (it's the same all day, everyday in Midgar regardless of circumstance other than the weather. Cold criminals are unhappy criminals. Most of the time). Criminals tend to be more daring with the cover of night on their side although they probably didn't count on someone like him being up and about. With his sensitive hearing, he could place the location of almost anything within a ten meter radius. Being a Soldier does have it's up side.

As he walked along the side-streets and alleys, he couldn't help but feel that something was...off. Like the shivers one would get when they feel as if they're being followed, the feeling of something there that you can't quite place. All of a sudden, it dawned on him: voices. He had been hearing them for awhile now, hushed speaking, whispered dialogue, he's been accidentally eavesdropping on someone's conversation, picking up a few words here and there. At first, he dismissed it as nothing more than a drug dealer carrying out a transaction but that was before he started hearing things like "evac" and "point of extraction". Finally, he heard something that had him frozen mid step. "Oh-two-seven-five," a voice muttered, followed by a muffled grunt. That was Soldier talk, a code made up of letters and numbers that only class three Soldiers and above can learn. O stood for target, two usually means a high value target, seven meant success, and five meant alive. O275. All together, it translates into, "The mission was a success, the target was captured alive."

Stumbling upon someone carrying out such a high priority mission was definitely not something he wanted to do at the moment, especially if the orders were to kill witnesses on sight, which was probably the case.

A rush of cold air later, he found himself pressed against a stone wall with a thin cut on his forehead that was already starting to heal moments after it was received. He was so busy deciphering the code, he didn't give a thought to the distance between himself and the voices. He realized too late that they were closer than he initially thought and narrowly missed having his head chopped off, ducking just in time although not fast enough to avoid missing the tip of the blade. At the same time, he blindly slashed out with his sword and from the loud sound that came immediately afterward, he figured he hit something. A second later, he winced as a strong light was shined on his face and he instinctively turned away for a moment.

"I told ya, Vold, the guy couldn't be normal if he managed to evade that attack, especially at that speed," said the older man with the flashlight. "He even got a slice at ya."

The other man, Vold, grunted.

"I still think it was because of your lousy aim," muttered Vold. "And I _had _to take that blow, dimwit, otherwise the target would have been hurt and you and I both know that we don't want that happening, so stop being an ass and take a God damn look at his eyes, Jensen." Vold directed a sideways tilt of the head towards him and Jensen leaned forward with a scrutinizing look in his eyes. Up close, they both looked to be in their mid to late thirties, already seasoned veterans in Soldier years.

"He's one of us," muttered Jensen after seeing his glowing blue eyes. "He's even wearing a first class uniform. But he's just a kid!"

"Hey, times have changed," Vold argued. :Remember that trio? They were probably younger than this one when they became firsts. You know, the one with that dark haired guy, the pretty boy brunette, and-."

"Sephiroth," Vold and Jensen finished in unison.

At the sound of his former role model's name, his head snapped up and Cloud escaped from the hold Jensen had him in and swung his sword down quickly. The flash light tumbled along the ground as a surprised Jensen staggered backwards holding a hand against the wound on his abdomen. Vold, quick to respond, blocked Cloud's next attack with a sword he produced out of nowhere. He swung his legs in an attempt to deliver a blow to the stomach, but Cloud evaded the attack by taking a few quick steps backwards. However, he didn't take notice of the crumpled form at his feet and tripped, giving Vold enough time to raise his sword in preparation for a slash at his stomach. Cloud quickly recovered and brought his sword out ready to deflect the next blow until he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. The crumpled form gave way to a female figure with deep green eyes that bore into his own blue ones.

At her feet, facing away from the fight was the flashlight that was dropped earlier.

* * *

><p>The kid's cocky, thought Vold as he jumped in front of the fallen Jensen to block his next attack. He cursed Jensen for being careless and estimated that it would take a full eight minutes for him to get back on his feet, judging by how fast he went down. He tried giving him a quick kick in the guts but the kid was fast and jumped back, only for the sprawling figure of The Target to send him stumbling backwards. Vold took this chance to make his move but at the last second, he saw the raising figure of The Target and the flashlight at her feet and even though he knew it was going to happen, he found himself looking away anyways as the bright beam of the flashlight was directed at him. That didn't stop him from bringing his sword down, though, and he felt satisfied when he felt resistance as he withdrew his sword, knowing that he struck the younger man.<p>

When he opened his eyes, he let loose a cry of anger and frustration to the shock of Jensen, who had chosen that exact moment to recover enough to stand on his own.

"SHIT!" he screamed as Jensen came to his side with questioning eyes.

And then he saw it too.

At that moment, they both knew that they were officially screwed.

Not only was the other Soldier gone but so was The Target, although that wasn't what scared them the most. The thing that brought about such a strong sense of fear in them was not the small pool of blood at their feet but the jaggedly cut piece of cloth in it, as pink as the dress they saw The Target wearing earlier. They watched in horror as it turned darker and darker, soaking up the surrounding blood until the two were indistinguishable.

If what they were thinking was true, coupled with the fact that only minutes earlier they had just informed the President that The Target was alive and well, there is no doubt that their lives will be abruptly cut short.

* * *

><p>"You fools!"<p>

The volume of the President's voice had the two Soldiers bowing their heads low in shame. Well, as low as one could bow when their heads were forcibly pressed against the hardwood floor of the President's cavernous office, held into a modified prisoner-of-war position by a pair of fellow first class Soldiers.

The portly man in front of them, short and horrendously overweight exerted a level of fear that did not match his appearance at all. What few strands of dirty blonde hair that was left on his head would surely be gone by the time he vents his frustration upon the two men.

"What the hell happened? Twenty minutes ago, you reported that The Target was alive and well. Ten minutes later, you appear on my doorstep empty handed and now you are telling me that there was a witness _and _that you might have KILLED THE TARGET?" The man was clearly infuriated, his face an unhealthy shade of red and spit escaping his lips as he spoke.

"Mr. President, I suggest that you remain calm-." Spoke a man with dark hair to the left of the President before being cut off by the President himself.

"I don't care, Tseng! Where were you and the rest of the Turks? Shouldn't you have been overseeing the whole damn thing, making sure that nothing goes wrong?" spat the President.

Tseng knew better than to argue, so he kept his gaze low and his mouth shut. He gave distress signals with his eyes to the young man in white that sat in a comfy white chair beholding the entire spectacle.

Face a calm and carefree expression, the man sighed deeply before standing up, fixing his suit as he did so despite it having no visible imperfection what so ever.

"Father, don't you think that we should wait and verify some information before we get too ahead of ourselves?" said Rufus Shinra, the son of President Shinra himself. His voice was smooth and assertive, although he always made sure that his idiot father never got the impression that he was trying to best him or seem higher than him in any way. He actively tried to stay on his good side, however difficult it can be to do so.

His father's office was well known throughout Midgar. It was in the exact center of the company, directly under the huge words SHINRA ELCTRIC CORP. on the exterior of the building, surrounded entirely by bulletproof glass windows and a balcony with a view of the city below. Those with a fear of heights tend to avoid the place, since it was on the forty-second floor. Rufus thought that this wasn't such an ideal place for an office, but of course he never voiced his opinion out loud.

As he approached his Father's desk, everyone knew that the only person that had even the slightest chance of instilling some sense into him was his son.

Facing the two men pinned to the ground, he asks, "Are you sure that the witness you saw was a first class Soldier?"

"Positive," muttered the injured man, Jerry, Jared, Johnson or something. "He was strong, fought with a sword and had the trademark eyes."

"Good. That's a start. Father, I suggest looking at deployment records to see the number of Soldier located within a mile radius of Sector 5. Pull up lists of all Soldier stationed and currently living in the immediate vicinity. We can send word out to look for the girl-."

"Ancient," corrected his father.

"-Ancient and have all reports forwarded to Tseng and myself. Anything worth reporting I will personally report to you in person. If we act quickly, we might be able to catch him yet." He said even though it was the farthest thing from his mind at that moment.

The President took a moment of silence to consider the option.

Finally, he spoke.

"Alright. Do it. And get these idiots out of my office."

Slowly, the office cleared out until only father and son were left. Whenever he has an outburst like that, it never lasts long, Rufus made sure of that. This might have been the fastest clean up yet, which only further proves how much his father is slipping, giving in, breaking down. The President sighed and sat down in his office chair, completely unaware that he wasn't sitting in it for the duration of the short meeting. He was an old man, and all this compiled stress only adds years onto his appearance. He closed his eyes and said wearily to his son, "One day, this company will belong to you, Rufus. And all of my burdens will be passed on to you also."

He said it in such a way that implies sympathy but yet it sounded like his father was using him as a scapegoat. Never in all his life has he heard his father utter an apology to anyone, much less himself. This was the closest he has ever gotten in showing that he actually cares about his son.

"That time might be sooner than you think, Father," muttered Rufus under his breath but he didn't have to worry much because by then, the president was already asleep in his chair, his snores filling the office that was as large as the man who owns it. If someone were to look carefully at that time, they might have seen Rufus Shinra exiting his father's office, a smirk playing on his lips as he closed the wooden doors with a near-silent click.

Oh yes, that time will come soon indeed.

A/N

Sorry it took me so long to update, was having a bit of troubling starting the story (as I always do). Like, I always have a clear plot and central events in my mind but just finding a way to start writing the beginning always ends up...yeah... Well, as always, review and forgive me for my spelling and grammatical errors! I want to hear your thoughts and predictions as well! (Gives me a sense of how well I'm writing the story)

With Love,

~Val~


	3. Friend or Foe?

Hey guys, it's been awhile and I'm really sorry about that. Free cookies? (Okay, I know you all really want an epic fanfic so I'll just stop bribing you. Cookies over Clerith? Pfft...)

I do not own Final Fantasy.

Friend or Foe

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry."<p>

Cloud might have been able to murmur a response had he not have been in so much pain. It was dark but he could see her moving about, her movements slow and deliberate, her touch gentle and full of care. He masked his pain with a look of indifference, however she proceeded gently all the same, as she cleaned his wound with a wet towel.

He could tell they were in a hotel room because he recognized the sanitary smell of fresh sheets and the complimentary stationary lying on the nightstand. Having no recollection of how he got there and being incapable of asking, he was left with nothing to do but to watch her tend to his wound.

This time, he was more like himself and actively tried to avoid looking into her eyes.

It was too difficult to look at her eyes that were dark with guilt and pain anyways.

It was like looking in a mirror.

Maybe she thought he was sleeping, or maybe it was because she knew he was awake, he wasn't quite sure which, but after an eternity of silence, he felt the heat of her breath on his neck and ears.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He wanted to scoff but he felt heat rising to his cheeks at the same time and seeing that he was already faking sleep, he might as well keep the act going. She thought he intentionally took the blow for her but really, it was nothing more than a slip up on his part. He didn't know what happened, probably a loss of focus, which he doubted but he couldn't think of any other reason as to why he ended up in front of her. He lost his focus and misread the enemy's action, that was all.

It was an accident.

A miscalculation.

Content with his reasoning, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

~...~

When he awoke, he was surprised to learn that he was alone. Sunlight now greeted his awakening form and he sat up in bed with little difficulty. Looking around only confirmed his suspicion that he really was alone. It was a small room with one bed and two doors, one of the two would undoubtedly lead to an adjoining bathroom. He didn't hear any running water coming from the bathroom or anyone's breathing but his own. The girl truly left.

He made his way to a door that he guessed correctly to lead to the bathroom and again, he was surprised at the lack of pain in his body. He was expecting to see bloody bandages in the waste bin but found none, which only intrigued him more. Standing up to examine himself in the mirror above the sink, he saw that the bandages on his chest were free of blood. He knew that the wound from the previous night would have needed at least one change of bandages an hour or so after she finished wrapping him up because he was bleeding so much, but he didn't find a single thing in the white bathroom or it's wastebasket. If she disposed of his bandages anywhere, it had to be here, unless she flushed it down the toilet which he highly doubted. If she left the hotel with the bandages, there would be no doubt that people would be rather curious as to why she's holding a bundle of bloody bandages, but then again, the hotel manager must have had quite a shock seeing a frail little girl carry in a bloody, mangled man wearing a Soldier uniform.

Maybe his wound wasn't as bad as he had thought, he reasoned, and reached for the knife he carried in his pocket. Remembering the pain he was in last night he knew it was unlikely, but he had nothing else to go by. Cutting at the bandages until they became little white ribbons at his feet, he gawked at amazement in the mirror. The gash from the previous night was reduced to a small cut, no longer than his thumb, just under his left clavicle. He could barely make out the thin white scar that ran from the end of the thumb long cut to the top of his right hip, the ghostly remnants of his injury.

The only word in his mind at that moment; how?

He was in a daze as he went back to the main room and took a seat on the edge of the bed. Taking another glance at the room, he saw his sword propped up in one corner and his shirt neatly folded at the foot of the bed. Those observations, along with a lingering scent that smelled of freshly turned earth and something else (some sort of plant perhaps?) were the only things that suggested she was even here at all. Just as he was about to rest his head on the bed once more, to try and make sense of everything that happened, he saw it.

Placed next to the bed, on the nightstand was a brightly colored bloom, as yellow as the sun peaking out from a slightly open drawer. He retrieved the flower and pushed the drawer shut, only to see a note written neatly on the notepad placed near the lamp.

"I'm sorry for all of the trouble I caused you," it read. "It was the least I can do."

Suddenly, he realized that the girl left something more than unanswered questions and a few neatly placed items.

She had entrusted him with a secret.

But why tell him, of all people? Despite not particularly anticipating another encounter, if he were to see her again, he wouldn't mind. He wanted only to pay back what he owes, knowing that he was never one to be indebted to anyone, much less a strange girl whose name he doesn't even know. Cloud couldn't help but pity the girl. Being wanted by Shinra is hard enough for him, a trained Soldier, but a helpless, fragile girl like her? She doesn't stand a chance. They must have only just started pursuing her sometime within the past few days because if they really wanted her, they would have captured her by now. He still had yet to figure out what they planned to do with her once she is captured but whatever the reason, it wouldn't be good.

Knowing Shinra, they could probably take over the world with ease if they wanted to and if they had the girl, it would only be that much easier.

Something felt unsettling about his situation. The ease of their escape, the lack of any search party being sent to scour the city for them. If she was as important as those men made her out to be, surely he would at least see an increased amout of uniform clad Soldiers wandering the streets.

Cloud had a feeling that this isn't going to be his last run in with Shinra.

* * *

><p>"Master Rufus, what is it that you require?"<p>

Rufus took a moment to open his eyes and sigh before swiveling his chair around to face the Turk. His office was small in comparison to his father's and he liked it that way. Small, contained, controlled. The very few things he had in his office, besides the standard desk and chair, was a gun hidden under his desk and security cameras he installed that could be viewed on his phone and in his bedroom, both having their own security measures as well, to make sure that no one but him would be able use them.

"Tseng," he began, "I have a task for you."

The suited man stood up a little straighter. As his master finished his order, Tseng visibly paled but otherwise showed no other physical sign that he had doubts about his new mission. Rufus, being ever so observant, realized his hesitation and commented on it.

"What is it, Tseng? Don't you agree with my reasoning?"

"It's...not that I don't agree with you, Sir," Tseng spoke, although that was only half true. He didn't quite share his understanding of the situation nor the logic behind it with his master, however admitting it would put him in an unfavorable position, but if one knew Rufus as long as he has, he understood where his request stemmed from. He chose his words carefully. "All I ask, sir, is that you reconsider."

There were so many things he wished he could tell his young master at that moment, but knowing that he was forbidden from doing so made it impossible. The future outcome of such a task was predictable, but he wanted to avoid such an outcome at all costs. His master smirked as he slowly shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Tseng, but it can't be helped." As the blond man turned his chair to face away from his subordinate, his eyes came to rest upon the monitor before him.

"After all those years, it can't be helped." whispered Rufus as he stared at the sleeping figure on the screen. The figure stirred once, as if he heard what the blond man had said, before returning to it's deep slumber, unaware that he had very little time left.

* * *

><p>Tseng did as his master ordered. He approached the building with purpose as red-cheeked men exited the building in swarms, stomach full of liquor and hearts full of joy. It was nearing midnight as he approached and the lights in the bar began to go off one by one. By the time he reached the door, the woman was putting up the "closed" sign when she caught sight of him.<p>

One look at his tied back hair and his crisp, pressed suit, the corners of her mouth turned down in an almost visible frown. She spoke politely but her words and tone of voice were laced with warning.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, drawing out the last word on purpose. "But we're closed."

"I'm not here for a drink," he answered coolly. "I'm here asking for your services."

She tilted her head to the side so that her dark hair framed her face in such a way that made her seem somewhat hostile.

"You're a Turk. We don't do business with Turks. Besides, what can we do that your fellow Turks can't do on their own?"

"Dispose of the President."

This seems to have caught her interest.

"What's in it for us?"

"We'll discuss the terms tomorrow evening. Bring your leader and yes, we know that Mr. Wallace is the man behind the curtain. If you accept this mission, we'll make it worth your while."

Tifa Lockhart couldn't quite believe it. A Turk, an employee of Shinra was asking them to dispose of the President.

"I never thought that Shinra would come crawling to our doorstep asking for help," she mused.

He smirked. "I never thought that Avalanche would ever even consider working with us either, but it seems that we're both wrong."

* * *

><p>Ahh, sorry guys. I felt a little rushed with this one and I must face my greatest obstacle: building the plot. Well, I have all the main points down, it's just the small and essential in-between stuff that always gets me stuck -_-<p> 


	4. I Know You

Thank you for all~ of the reviews you guys :) Reading reviews makes me feel like I should continue with the fic and continue I shall! So here's chapter 3. It might be a few chapters still until the real Clerith-y stuff comes along (with a bunch of surprises and such in between, heh heh. Hint-hint )And because of a certain reviewer *** cough * **I decided, why not give the viewers some cookies anyways? (Especially since the Clerith-y stuff hasn't come around yet) :)

I do not own Final Fantasy VII.

* * *

><p>I k n o w y o u . . .<p>

"How the fuck did they know?"

"I don't know."

"WHAT THE HELL KIND OF ANSWER IS 'I DON'T KNOW' ?"

She figured Barret would be pissed, especially since they were trying so damn hard to be secretive. They can't just go around waving a big sign declaring themselves a member of a rebel group bordering on terrorism. It would bring about bad business to the bar for one, and that is their main source of income. More importantly, they had friends and family to take care of so one could imagine the state of turmoil the Avalanche members were in after a well dressed Turk walks by and says he knows all about their group.

That Turk was currently lounging upstairs at the counter awaiting his answer.

"You know, he can probably hear us," Tifa warned. _Especially since your yelling so loud._

"I don't give a shit!" came Barret's answer although he did lower his voice. "This is probably some freakin' trap to lure us out. You should have denied everything he said!"

"Wouldn't vehemently denying it only make us even _more _suspicious?"

"That's not the point!"

"Well, than what is?"

At that point, Barret was on the verge of exploding. Had he not heard the sound of small footsteps coming down the stairs, he would have gone on a swearing streak so long, he would have been struck by lightning for sure.

"Marlene alert," both Avalanche members said at once as a little girl comes wandering in their general direction. In front of the moogle holding, eye rubbing, yawn stifling little girl, both parties put up a united front.

"Daddy, Tifa, what's going on?" murmured the young child.

"Nothing, sweetheart. Daddy's just having a conversation with Tifa," said Barret in a voice that didn't suit his status as the leader of a small rebellion. He picked up the sleepy Marlene which somehow decreased his suitability to be a father when comparing the size of the two. The hulk-like, looming figure of Barret was a stark contrast to the fragile, small size of his daughter.

"Does this conversation have anything to do with your 'business'?" asked Marlene. Tifa and Barret shared a nervous glance, both recalling that every time Barret and co had to leave for an Avalanche mission, he could always tell Marlene they were going out on "business" which was true to a certain extent.

One had to admit that the child was observant.

"Hush now, baby, Daddy has to go back to work. Why don't ya go back to sleep?" suggested Barret.

"No, I wanna sleep with Daddy!"

"Now Marlene, Daddy ain't got time for that right now."

"I'm staying right here!" declared the child and it was undeniable that she was the real boss in the room.

"Well," continued Tifa as little Marlene defiantly pouted her lips, earning more sway in the father-daughter fight. "We have a jerk in a suit waiting for an answer up there and a one-sided fight going on down here. If we don't do anything about one or both of them, I think we're gonna have a handful of angry Avalanche members here tomorrow morning."

Barret let out a sigh. "Call out the gang. Might as well get their input on the situation," said the man in a leader-like fashion.

Tifa grinned, knowing full well that Marlene deserves sole credit for the newly reformed Avalanche leader.

"Tell them to get their asses over hear if they want this month's pay," he added, not even bothering to censor his words because a once semi-alert Marlene was now a limp doll cuddled against his chest, finally giving into sleep.

It was a well deserved rest.

* * *

><p>He didn't know which was more embarrassing: facing the enemy that figured out everything he was trying to hide or facing his enemy with a small child curled in his lap. Probably the latter. Well, it isn't as embarrassing as it is counter-effective. He loses some of the intimidation factor, after all. Although he knew that he couldn't deny his little girl anything. She asks for so little.<p>

Barret is no fool when it comes to his work with Avalanche. He thinks things out thoroughly, reads the situation, and acts accordingly. After all, the single force driving him forward is the little girl sleeping on his lap. That is why he is even willing to discuss this task given to him by his enemy.

"He~y, why did you call us out so late anyways?" came a whine from behind him.

"Shitface's right, I gotta wife waitin' for me at home, mind you," added a blond haired man to his left. "Mind if I have a smoke?"

"Don't do it here, Cid! Marlene's sleeping!" scolded Tifa, motherly instincts kicking in.

"Yeah! And I have a name, Dumbo! It's Yuffie Kisaragi, the greatest shinobi in all the land!" cried Yuffie with her usual energetic nature. Quick to defend herself, that one. Always making sure that no one belittles her.

"I wasn't gonna do it right in this exact spot! And don't ninjas prefer night to daytime anyways? What kind of ninja are you?"

"HEY! My dimwit dad won't let me go out at night often so I'm not used to staying up, alright!"

"Lousy excuse for a ninja, brat-"

"You guys are going to wake up Marlene..."

"WON'T YOU ALL JUST SHUT UP?"

Damn, they're making him lose face! It was hard enough looking after his own daughter but looking after his team is like looking after a bunch of little kids. Man, this "united front" idea he had going isn't working out too well...

"I invited you guys here to make a group decision, not to fight like frickn' five year olds!"

"I'm happy to see that you'll hear me out," said the Turk, a grin displayed on his face.

It pissed him off. The grin on that bastard's face, his nice suit and nonchalant personality, he's just another Shinra lapdog.

"Just get on with it already! Fucking slower than a damn tortoise!" he growled.

"Calm down, now. I'm not looking for a fight. I'm simply asking for your services to help preserve our fine city."

That was the last straw.

"Shut the hell up! Have you seen this city we live in? The rich toy with the citizens as if they're disposable, more useless than trash. A simple glance that rubs the higher ups in the wrong way, the person get's the shit beat out of him. Where is Shinra when a rich man get's away with rapin' a girl? Where is Shinra when a man get's beaten out in the middle of the street because a low-life has nothing better to do? Shinra is in charge around here, that I don't deny, but try and act like it for once, dammit! This city is out of control, and those who _don't _have the money to hire guards and buy a house with a beefed up security system can't do shit about it! Just cuz we ain't got no special status in Shinra's book, or a bottomless pit of money doesn't mean we deserve this kind of life, a life where I can't let my little girl go out of sight without drowning in worry or fearing that wandering thugs and criminals will snatch her away or worse. Those drug dealers and thieves, serial killers and rapists out there might not be of interest to you since they don't directly pose as a threat to the company, but you and I know well enough that this isn't how things should be."

Everyone was shocked into silence.

Tseng was the one to eventually speak up first.

"Do you think it's easy, running a city as big as Midgar? We know full well of the vermin that wanders these streets but our focus is directed onto something of greater importance. Securing the safety of the populace in general is top priority, believe it or not. Do you remember the Wutainese War?"

Tifa paled. She worriedly glanced at the young ninja besides her, expecting an angry outburst of some sort. Even Barett spared a glance, knowing the girl's position as a proud citizen of Wutai and daughter to an important government official. She was young during the war so she probably had no recollection of it. Tifa, on the other hand, was old enough to remember. It was the single most defining moment in her life.

Cid offered a grunt in reply, his eyes focusing on the smoke coming out of the end of his cigarette. He served in the war.

"How can we forget?" said the blond as he let out a puff of smoke in one smooth, long breath.

"Do you know how many people died in that war?" asked Tseng. It was obviously a rhetoric question but Yuffie, being Yuffie, moved her lips as if to answer until she caught the warning glare from Barrett and Cid. "Too many to count. It took us many decades to recover from such a blow to our society. We rebuilt Midgar into the stronghold that it is today, so much so that we were renamed the capital of our country."

As much as Avalanche would like to dismiss that fact, it really was an admirable feat. Because of that, they let him continue.

"Do you know why we are constantly training and scouting for candidates for Soldier and the like? In order to ensure that nothing like the war against Wutai will ever happen again. The President is exhausting all resources in search of a "greater peace", risking all progress that we've made thus far. That is why we are in need or your services. To do what we cannot do ourselves."

"We? We as in you and the other Turks?"

"No. 'We' as in myself along with my fellow Turks and the young master of course. He is the one that sent me here in the first place."

"Young master? You don't mean-."

"The one and only, Rufus Shinra of course. He is asking for your helping hand to dispose of his father."

He must of found their shocked face fairly amusing for he chuckled a bit.

"It really isn't all that unbelievable that he would want to kill his father."

"That Rufus _has _to be the President's good for nothing son. He's even more of a low-life than his father...," murmured Barret.

"Now," continued Tseng. "About our terms..."

* * *

><p>As she said good-bye to Yuffie, the last Avalanche member to go, Tifa went up to Barret to tell him to leave the door unlocked because she was going outside for a bit.<p>

He gave her a look, as if understanding the need for her to do such a thing, and nodded in reply as he silently carried the sleeping form of his daughter upstairs.

It felt like she couldn't stay a moment longer in the bar and she ran out the door as soon as Barett was out of sight. Even as the night's cool air hit her, she felt like she was still inside, trapped in an invisible room with no doors or windows, no chance of escape or ever breathing fresh air again.

She couldn't believe Barret agreed to such a proposition. She couldn't believe that she didn't voice a single word of opposition. They have a week to prepare for the mission. Can she settle her emotions by then?

Why is it that she keeps welcoming death into her life like that when she promised herself all those years ago that she would rather die than do such a thing? How many lives is she going to claim with her uncertain hands?

When she was out of sight from the Seventh Heaven, she stopped and fell onto her hands and knees. Those questions weighed her down like physical weights. She couldn't possibly much more of this.

As her breathing slowed and her mind calmed down, for a moment, she thought everything was going to be okay.

But that was before she saw an approaching shadow from in front of her. Her head snapped up in an instant and she did a double take.

That familiar face...Those eyes...

The words came stumbling out of her mouth faster than she could stop it.

"Cloud? Is that you?"

* * *

><p>Aaand, that's where we're ending it for the moment :) Man, this fic might actually get darker than I originally intended it to be, considering the tone I've set in the past few chapters. I might up the rating in the future.<p>

Finally, I have overcome my writer's block! For this chapter anyways.

Score:

Val: 1

Writer's Block: 2,751

Keep reviewing and keeping me updated on your thoughts/predictions. I hope you like the little insight about the current setting. Hint: It may help you out in predicting what will happen later on in the fic...

I might have to take a break to write something a little more light-hearted to even the tension, otherwise my mind will be forever stuck in this "ah-someone's-probably-gonna-end-up-dying-soon" gloomy kind of mindset.

I just learned the difference between "blond" and "blonde"! I feel the need to go back in my previous chapters and edit out mistakes -_-

Oh, and take a moment to view my profile and participate in the poll: When do you think Cloud and Aerith will meet again?


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